Senator Cullen
by CodependentLiza
Summary: A submission from Codependent Liza's backlog of story starts meant as a peace offering for the long update delay in Sharks and College Rescue. It's merely one more iteration of extremely-dominant Edward stumbling across extremely-submissive Bella to the enormous relief and future joy of both of them, and everyone around them. You know the drill! (No lemons yet.) AH, AU, CC's ExB


Bella is a nineteen-year-old college intern working in Senator Cullen's office. She doesn't have (or want– she's terrified of him, in a good way) any interaction with him of course; she's an aide in the front office used for menial clerical stuff because she's willing and smart and has great people skills… at least as far as making people feel good about the Senator and his office staff; she's not able to handle conflict at all.

Which means she's easily taken advantage of, and the office coordinator Tanya takes advantage of her on a regular basis, including assigning her the project of entering all contact information from the year into a new database before the 4th of July holiday. Bella stays late and later trying to finish it, and Tanya leaves her hard at work, heading out early to get started on her own vacation. But then the power goes off, and Bella —terrified believing herself to be alone in the dark office—freezes, waiting. When it comes back on a half-hour later, she has to re-enter a little and then rushes to finish. She's just printing out the final version when Senator Cullen comes out of his office, shocked to find one of the office workers still in the office at 10 p.m.

He stares at her, trying to figure out who she is, then remembers Jasper telling him some funny little story about the girl in the front office who got pigeonholed by the elderly Senator from Georgia and listened to him regale her with inappropriate stories from the deep South for almost an hour before Jasper finally made a greatly amused Tanya intervene and rescue the poor girl. Her name comes to him with the memory, and he breaks the silence of her scared face fixed on his own surprised one by saying "Bella, right?" There was a slight pause, before the girl nodded anxiously, now looking like she was about to cry. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

The tears started as Bella stumbled over herself with her apologies in response to his question. "Oh, Mr. Senator Sir (she ran the titles together) I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be so slow. I – I – please don't be mad at me, I mean I understand why you're mad at me, I mean I'll do better next time , I mean—" her voice was getting higher and higher and she looked like she was about to levitate with nervous energy, so Edward cut her off, saying "Shhh, I'm not mad at you; no one's mad at you," as he walked forward with his hands out.

As his hands landed gently on her shoulders, and he could feel the intense trembling of the little body in front of him and hear the near-hysterical sobbing breaths, he said again, "Shhhhh, Bella, Bella, Bella, you're okay. Everything's okay, honey, don't be upset, all right?" As he said this, so tenderly, he held her out and away from him a little bit so he could inspect her face. Her scared eyes darted up to his, incredulous , and when he grinned at her, meaning to be reassuring, her eyes flew away again to the floor off to the side of him. He laughed just a little, softly, and pulled her into him for a tight hug. "Oh, sweet girl, who left you here all by yourself?"

"Um, well, I don't know?"

Edward laughed lightly again. "Okay, who gave you this project right before Independence Day break?"

Bella says quietly, shyly, "Um, Tanya did, but I told her I could do it. I'm usually a fast typer, I mean typist, I mean data entry person; I don't know why I was so slow tonight."

Edward, still holding one arm around her, has reached down to pull the top few papers off the stack in the printer, which has just stopped, and looks at what's on them. "This is a lot of information, sweetheart. When did you start working on this?"

"Oh, um, this afternoon."

"This afternoon?" he asks incredulously.

Bella nods her head earnestly. "Tanya wanted me to get the first draft done so I can check it against the original first thing when we get back from break."

"Well then Tanya should have helped with the data entry."

"That's okay; I don't mind. I like typing."

"Is that right?"

She nods shyly, still not looking at him.

"Well, it looks like you did a beautiful job."

She blushes beet red, smiles but looks terrified at the same time, eyes down on the floor feet away from him. "Thank you" she manages to get out in a whisper.

He stares for a moment, taking in her loveliness, then reaches out a gentle hand and rubs one thumb down her cheek, wiping up the tears, as he says huskily, "You're welcome."

Bella shudders at his touch and starts shaking even harder, which Edward notices, causing him to drop his hands and quickly pull off his suit jacket and wrap it around her. He reaches for her bag then which was hanging over her chair, and turns to her asking, "Do you have any other belongings you need to get before we go?"

She shakes her head shyly, her hands holding the jacket tightly around her, her mind mush from the overwhelmingness of the senator's smell wafting up to her from the jacket. She stares at him dumbly as he holds out a hand and says "Come," to her, both their bags slung over his shoulder. She looks up at him, her eyes pleading, and stays stock still. The next moment he moves to her and gathers her in his arms, before picking her up and holding her against his chest, then striding out the door that his security person is holding open for him.

Standing in the elevator, holding her, he looks down at her to see her big, wide eyes staring back at him. She looks very uncertain but not quite scared; more disbelieving. He smiles, says "You can wrap your arms around my neck and hide, sweetheart, if you'd like."

Not a second passes before she does just that, burrowing her face into his chest. He feels her take a deep breath, then let it out against his shoulder. He pats her head approvingly as he exits the elevator to the parking garage, saying "That's right, sweetheart, you're safe with me now. Good girl."

He frowns a bit after he hears what he's said; the "good girl" especially was said without thought or reflection, and it occurs to him both that it's not remotely appropriate for him to say to one of his office staff and also that it makes him angry to think that it's not remotely appropriate for him to say to her.

He's dwelling on this thought as he's climbing into the back of his limo, one hand over the back of her head to make sure he doesn't knock it against the car frame, when Peter, his security chief, comes up and says discreetly to him, "Does she have a car we'll need to move, Sir?"

Edward startles inwardly but doesn't show it. _Shit, this looks bad,_ he thinks to himself, grateful that he has complete trust in his security staff even though he wasn't meaning to be as lecherous as this looks. _Or maybe I am, _he ruefully acknowledges to himself as he looks again at the little brown head now nestled against him and realizes how much he likes it there. "Excellent question, Peter," he responds. "Hang on a minute and I'll ask."

Leaning in so he's speaking quietly in her ear, he asks "Bella, honey, where's your car parked?"

She whispers her response, not turning her head or even opening her eyes. "I don't have a car."

"Then how were you going to get home? Do you usually take a cab?"

"No. I take the Metro."

"The Metro? At this time of night?" He's shocked, and almost instantly pissed at the idea of her traveling – alone – on the subway. The walk to the station by itself would be fraught with danger after dark for someone as obviously vulnerable as she is.

Her head has snapped up at the tone of his voice, and she's shyly looking up at him, saying "I'm sorry. Is there something wrong?"

And then, as it registers in her rational, conscious mind that she is sitting in Senator Cullen's _lap_ in the back of a limo, her eyes get wide and she starts trying to scoot off his legs. Really, she almost flings herself out of his arms, but he's too quick in his response and he tightens the hold of his arms around her as he says, "Shhhh, Bella honey, there's nothing wrong, at least not anymore, and there is definitely nothing for you to apologize for."

Bella isn't calming though, instead she's panicking, awash in shame, uncertain what she did wrong but certain she did something horrible that will end with the Senator dismissing her in disgrace. She's fighting his hold, and crying, and saying in a quiet voice, "I'm so sorry, I'll just go, I'm sorry to bother you," when Edward interrupts her with a near-growl as he says, almost shouts, "Enough!"

Bella freezes, terrified, staring up at him. He smiles at her, both kindness and sadness evident in his eyes as he risks taking one hand to tuck some stray hairs off her forehead and wipe the tears that have just started off her cheeks. She continues to stay frozen, barely breathing, waiting for him to yell at her, to tell her what a bad person she is.

Instead, he speaks to his assistant, who is still standing just outside the partially-open door, waiting patiently for instructions. "Peter, track Tanya down and find out who this sweet girl belongs to. Then call the negligent sons-of- [he cuts himself off, not wanting to swear in front of her] and inform them she'll be staying with me for the duration of the holiday." He thinks about what he's said for a moment, then adds, "Scratch that. Just get the name and number of the supposedly-responsible party, and I'll call them myself when we get to the shore. Let them worry until then; they deserve it."

Peter says, "All right, Senator, will do," and starts to close the door before Edward reaches out to hold it open a little longer, adding, "And let Tanya know there will be hell to pay when I see her back in the office for not taking more care with the safety and well-being of the office staff. Thanks, Peter," Edward finishes as he pulls the door shut, then leans to hit the intercom button and says "Whenever you're ready, Felix."

Bella is still rigid in his arms, staring at him, disbelieving. He settles back into the seat after grabbing a cashmere wrap left by Alice off the opposite seat, and starts tucking it around her. "Okay, sweetheart, let's get you comfortable," he says to her in a quiet, calming voice, the one he uses around his horses. And almost instantly, Bella is asleep.

XXX

I woke up to the warmth of the sun on my face, and the lovely feeling of soft linen against my cheek and over my shoulder. I moved my legs in ecstatic satisfaction, so glad to be warm and safe in bed, and having just had the most fabulous dream…the hazy tendrils of it were still clinging to me, but something about the present reality was bothering me. I started to think, my eyes still closed, about what was not right. Finally, I realized several things: I heard birds. And no cars. And there was an open window with a breeze blowing in; a breeze that had a distinctly salty tang to it.

I shot up to a sitting position and looked around. The room I was in was completely unfamiliar, but gorgeous—very white with blue accents, like the blue china vase on the white-painted wood mantelpiece over the fireplace, which was itself tiled in white, with blue designs on the tiles. There were gorgeous yellow tulips spilling out of the vase, and a spray of yellow roses in the crystal vase on my bedside table.

I was incredulous, and absolutely dumbfounded. I had no idea where I was. I racked my brain to try and figure it out, wondering if maybe this was the shore home of friends of my aunt and uncle's, and I had been sick or something and for some reason had been sent here.

I stood up out of the bed, and found I was wearing a gorgeous white cotton with eyelet lace nightgown that was not my own, and couldn't see my clothes anywhere. There was, however, a pink silk robe laying over the back of a nearby chair, so I plucked it up and pulled it on, relishing the feel of the silk on my arms as it slid easily over my sleeveless nightgown. Tying it, I noticed slippers on the floor as well—delicate, silk, wedge-heeled slippers, with bows before the open toes. I slid my feet into them, finding to my surprise that they fit just right, and feeling even more confused than before, though also surprisingly well cared-for.

I carefully stuck my head out the bedroom door, which I had pulled slowly open, and called softly, "Hello? Is anyone there?" but only silence met my question.

Cautiously, I stepped out into a long hallway, full of light from the windows on either end and carpeted in a thick, plush oriental rug woven in rich blues and golds. Looking across from me, I saw over a balustrade into a grand entryway, and noticed stairs descending from either side of the balcony this part of the hallway formed.

I chose the closer stairs, and walked carefully down them, trying not to make too much noise on the bare wood. At the bottom, I turned away from the large front door and saw a dining room, opening out via French doors spread wide onto a deck, which led to a golden, sandy beach and, in the distance, the dark blue ocean and a bright blue sky. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but I didn't really stop breathing until my eyes focused back into the dining room before me, and saw, seated at the far end of the table and staring right at me, Senator Cullen.

XXX

I was staring at the girl, all manners forgotten, mesmerized by her innocent beauty in the nightclothes my sister Alice had brought over for her and my mother, Esme, had helped her put on after we arrived late the evening before. Well, really early this morning; it was a solid three-and-a-half hours from DC to my family's ocean-side retreat in Virginia, even ignoring the speed limit.

Isabella (I had found out her legal, full name from Peter's reconnaissance the night before, and I liked it) wasn't speaking either, but was gazing over my shoulder to the view outside the doors. I don't think she realized at first that I was there, because as soon as her eyes met mine, hers widened to unrealistic proportions…just before she turned on her heels and ran out of the room.

I was so surprised by her reaction, I sat motionless a moment, watching her fly across the entryway and start back up the stairs. Her foot was on the third step up before I set down my coffee cup, arose from my seat, and took pursuit. She was fast enough that she made it into the guest bedroom where she had slept, closing the door behind her, just as I hit the hallway myself. That gave her just a few seconds to hide before I was opening the bedroom door, calling out, "Isabella! What's wrong?" as I entered.

I came to a stop and surveyed the room from the open doorway. Then, as I felt a predatory grin spreading across my face, I closed the door shut behind me with a satisfying click before moving stealthily towards the trembling curtains on the left side of the window which overlooked the gardens between my house and my parents'.

"Isabella," I said quietly, half-singing it, as I approached, "Isabella, I'm not going to hurt you."

I paused, checking for any response, and indeed the shaking movement of the curtains accelerated and I heard a little squeak before they went entirely still—though she still had not managed to move the exposed side of her dainty pink slipper under the curtain, so there was no way she was fooling me.

I started moving towards her again, this time stretching my arms out to be ready to catch her from whatever direction she exited her hiding place. "Isabella, it's just me, Edward. Come out and talk to me, sweetheart."

If possible, her body went even more rigid beneath the fabric. No sound this time. I was almost to her when I said, "I know where you are, honey," and that did it. Not even a heartbeat later and she was flying out from behind the draperies and towards the door, barreling full-force into my chest.

But I was braced for impact, so she didn't even make me stumble before I had my arms wrapped around her squirming, struggling body and was dragging her to the sofa and down into my lap.

The moment her body made contact with my seated legs, she gave up fighting and curled into me, the same way she'd ridden the entire journey the night before. She even fisted the back of my shirt as if she were holding on for dear life, so I was soon flying high with the ego-boost of her quick turnabout to trusting me. Or at least holding on to me like a baby monkey holds on to its mother.

My own little monkey—no, my baby.

I had been so worried on waking this morning that my impulsive actions of the night before had been the result of stress and fatigue leading to bad judgment, that I was profoundly relieved to feel the same joy, the same rightness welling up in me as I sat there, holding her on the sofa in my guestroom, no words being said because no words were needed. I felt just as I had felt in the office when I carried her out, and in the car when I had watched darkened streets pass by with an almost-complete stranger nestled in my lap and taking enormous, if also completely unexpected, comfort there. As I took shockingly enormous pleasure in engulfing her with my arms; my body; my presence.

I could only describe the sensation to my incredulous parents, awake and alarmed at the intelligence that I was arriving with a young intern in tow in a completely spontaneous manner, as returning to a beautiful, loving home after decades of being away and terribly homesick, distraught with loss, to find it even better than your best memories despite not having understood the homesickness for what it was the whole time you were gone. All my life before now, I had been restless and unsatisfied at best, dissipated and wanton at worst, and with every passing year in which no peace was uncovered in my seemingly highly successful and fortunate life, more and more bitter. But now, looking down at the small, brown head resting against my shoulder, it was as if everything made sense, and all the long years of waiting—for what I hadn't known—was time well spent.

Of course, trying to sell my family on this was going to be difficult, let alone my staff, constituents and the damnable media. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind for the time being, however, determined to enjoy every pleasurable moment with this soft creature, whom I had yet to hear more than a very few sentences from-and those spoken as strangers. I had little idea yet what her mind was like, beyond the fear and misplaced shame it had already betrayed, although I saw the brightness of intellect in her eyes and heard the warmth of gentle kindness in her voice.

I knew too what my most trustworthy staff thought of her, the few humorous details I had acquired previously being well-supplemented by phone conversation the preceding night. Tanya for one was as incredulous as my parents, or more so, that I would take such an interest in the girl; indeed, she seemed offended by it, and not for the girl's sake—which would be understandable, even fitting. No, she had given evidence of personal offense at the idea of my taking any interest at all in "such a mousy little thing, with no fashion taste or social skill at all!" Clearly, those latter were the attributes Tanya considered most fitting to a potential partner of a Senator, and, despite the modern times, I'm sure she would not be alone in her assessment among those around me.

Alice, for one, would be shocked at Isabella's previous wardrobe I have no doubt, but unlike Tanya, my baby sister Alice had taken with growing fervor to the almost-sleeping girl she'd watched my mother undress and dress, so that by the time she left—towed out of the house by my mother—she was excitedly planning a spring society wedding. I would have laughed and mocked her certainty, seeing as I had known the girl all of four hours at that point, but I was too busy relishing the idea myself, so that any mocking words that dared to begin died quickly on my lips.

My mother was being more circumspect, and cautious—which was very much like my mother. (Really, Esme was my maternal aunt, and Carlisle, her husband, my uncle. But after my parents' death when I was only seven, I had learned, in due time, to call them both my parents, and to be glad of the opportunity to do so. I missed my "real" parents, of course, and always would, but that lingering loss came from cherished memories and an animal sense of blood connection, not from any failings or unmet needs attributable to Esme and Carlisle, who were both loving parents and exemplary human beings.) No doubt she'd filled my father in last night too, and I knew I could count on needing to explain myself further to both of them before the day had passed.

At least I knew already I could count on the support of Alice's husband Jasper, both as my chief of staff and as my brother-in-law. He had groaned at first, and asked me good-naturedly why I had to make life so hard for him, but he had cheered me considerably with his analysis of the legal aspects of the situation. I was not Isabella's supervisor, nor even her supervisor's supervisor, so as long as I didn't interfere with her at work, I was in the clear to date her. The fact too that hers was not actually a paid position, but a volunteer internship with no long-term commitment or contract beyond these summer months, well that didn't hurt.

What did hurt, of course, was the potential for sexual harassment charges to be leveled against me, either formally by the Senate Ethics committee or informally by the bastard press, based on the enormous discrepancy in power and background, and the large difference in age (but not too large, I liked to assure myself) between us. I would have to tread carefully, and as much as it angered me to do so given how I felt about how poorly she'd obviously been being cared for before me, I would need to start with her family.

I didn't anticipate any problems from Isabella herself; it was obvious to anyone that she didn't have a manipulative or duplicitous bone in her body. Of course, that just made her look more vulnerable, and accurately so. I couldn't blame Jasper for his comments about making life more difficult for him than necessary; although it was necessary if I was ever to have peace of mind, and know the joy of fulfilling my life's purpose. He rolled his eyes (I could hear it over the phone line, the eye roll was so dramatic) at this, but he was willing to go with it, and was already hard at work, I had no doubt, strategizing how to manage the press on this development.

Meanwhile, Isabella appeared to have fallen back asleep, unaware as she was of all the fall-out that would attend her discovery here, in my home. I could only hope that in the end she, too, would believe it to be worth the cost, and the exposure. I suppose if I were a better man, I would have woken her up then and explained, sparing no detail, what she was getting herself into, becoming a houseguest of a bachelor senator with designs on her person. But I wasn't, and I didn't, and instead spent a blissful hour watching her sleep.

I was just accepting the need to abandon her for a few moments in order to rid myself of the cups of coffee I had drunk at my interrupted breakfast when I heard footsteps and voices on the stairs.

Bracing myself for the female inquisition (I would get the male version later, no doubt), I answered quietly to their questioning voices in the hall, "We're in here. She's sleeping."

They heard my voice, and after a perfunctory knock on the door, Alice, Rosalie and my mother burst into the room. Well, Alice burst; the others followed gracefully, my mother looking cautiously enthusiastic and Rosalie looking even more sour and vengeful than usual. That would pose a problem.

First, however, I had to calm Alice. She was speaking, though quietly, at such a high and enthusiastic pitch, that Bella startled awake almost immediately after Alice's entrance. I felt her body tense and heard a loud intake of breath before she hid her face further into my chest and froze, apparently intent on pretending she was still sleeping.

In response, I lifted my hand and held her head tightly against me, then leaned down to whisper, "Don't worry, Isabella. I've got this covered."

A tiny little sob and a minute tightening of her grip on my shirt was how I knew she had heard me.

Meanwhile, Alice had bounced around the sofa and in front of me and had dragged up an ottoman to perch on, staring rapturously at Isabella's curled form.

When Alice sensed my eyes on her, she lifted her own and grinned, then squealed and clapped her hands.

"Shhhh," I cautioned her. "She's had a rough night; please try to let her sleep Allie," I half-whispered.

"Okay," she agreed good-naturedly, then pulled her feet up under her and settled in as if she intended to sit and watch Isabella sleeping.

Shaking my head but also touched by Alice's unprecedented interest in my—I broke off at mentioning the word "girlfriend," even just internally in my own private thoughts. Isabella wasn't that; not by a long shot. She was simultaneously so much more, and so much less, it blew my mind just thinking about it. And made me very, very anxious to have her alone with me again.

It was a little disorienting, and embarrassing, to have my eyes fall on my mother after having just realized how much I wanted to physically possess the girl in my arms, but it did have the welcome effect of distracting myself from the carnal desires that were making themselves known, and allowing me to focus once more on the less prurient practicalities of claiming the girl in my arms, and hopefully—oh so hopefully—making her happy.

"Hi, Mom," I said, smiling sheepishly as I said it, in response to her own smiling but serious unwavering gaze.

"Good morning, Edward," she said calmly, her usual loving warmth underlying a warning tone, and I knew she had let me off easy last night but would not be doing so again. I had some explaining to do to Esme Platt Cullen, and it had better be good.

"You know the press is going to crucify you for having her here, and dig up all the sluttiest details about her life. It will make us all look bad, Edward—you're being such a selfish ass, as usual," my sister-in-law Rose interjected with her own usual venom.

"Good morning to you too, Rosalie," I responded, only a trace of acerbity in my tone. Then I dropped the polite veneer and added, "And if you ever again use the word 'slut' in reference to Isabella Swan, I will personally hand-deliver a copy of your infamous 'lingerie' calendar to every Junior League member in DC and Northern Virginia. Do you understand me?"

I ignored my mother's outraged, "Edward!" and kept my eyes boring into the insecure, petulant and insanely beautiful woman-child standing in front of me until I saw the slight cave of her shoulders and drop of her head that indicated she had heard my ultimatum and would abide by it. Despite seeing with painful clarity how much my brother's wife would benefit from a stern overseer with a firm hand, I for the most part steered clear of her and watched from afar as my hapless, besotten brother overindulged her, with sadly predictable results.

My participation in the familial collusion to ignore Rosalie's tantrums had just come to a screeching halt, however, as I realized I had also just brought home the perfect victim for Rosalie's mean-girl viciousness. I was going to have to be vigilant, because I easily saw how much of Isabella's innocence and sweet-little-girl nature would be a threat to Rosalie, and how jealous Rosalie would be as well. This wouldn't be pretty, or easy, but I had absolutely no doubt of my ability to handle both girls safely and competently and with love—brotherly love for Rose, and an all-encompassing center-of-my-universe love for the beauty in my arms.

The gratitude I felt thinking again about the future I was already beginning to plan with Isabella warmed my heart so much that I reached out to Rosalie, who was turning away with a bitter and miserable look on her face. Catching her around the wrist and halting her turn, I said, "Rose, I'm counting on you to help me with her. There's a lot she doesn't know that you could teach her. I would like that."

Then, for an instant, I saw the wounded girl behind the angry façade that Rosalie Hale Cullen had perfected, and saw too that wounded girl's face light up in response to my trust in her, and my affection. It was a reminder of how much I had hurt Rosalie when I had been immune to her romantic advances; she had admitted later she hadn't truly been attracted to me either, but she had been used to feigning affection without ever knowing before the stinging rejection of someone not wishing to play along. Even her genuine love for my brother, and his passionate and loyal return of love for her, had failed to completely erase the pain of my not-wanting her, and I knew I owed her some extra careful attention to her feelings now in exchange for the trauma of that experience, and my subsequent brusqueness.

I smiled at Rose, true fondness in it, and was rewarded with a shy smile in return before the door slammed down again over her vulnerability and Rosalie turned on her heels, pulling out of my grasp (which I allowed her to do), and flounced out of the room announcing, "I don't have all day to watch someone sleep. I'm going to go get ready; _some_ of us have to worry about this family's reputation."

I laughed as I called after her, "Good-bye Rose," and was happy to see my mother's worried expression as she watched Rosalie exit fade into good humor as she saw that her daughter-in-law's snarkiness wasn't bothering me in the least.

I reached out the hand Rosalie had pulled away from and let it rest gently on Esme's forearm, saying, "Don't worry, Mom; I can handle Rosalie."

She smiled back and leaned in to peck me on the cheek, not needing to respond with words.

Leaning back, she sighed and said, "Well, we should probably talk about the logistics of the holiday." Then, turning her warning gaze on me once more, she added, "And how to manage the arrival of your unexpected house guest, Edward."

I nodded, and gestured to the armchair behind Alice's perch. Choosing to pick off the easy topic first, I said "Lay it on me, Mom. How many functions this year?"

"A little more than usual, I'm afraid, my dear."

Esme needed only an interested quirk of my eyebrow to continue. "The hurricane last year destroyed the elementary school's playground in town; I promised the school board building and grounds committee that the Cullens would send a delegation to the ribbon-cutting scheduled for the morning of the 4th. Right in between the American Legion's annual pancake breakfast and the DNC picnic."

Now it was my turn to sigh. "Well, it could be worse. At least we'll have the evening to ourselves. Do Dad and Emmett have their fireworks display planned yet?"

"But that's the worst of it, dear. We may have inadvertently been promised to attend Victoria Martin's Independence Day party that night."

I could do nothing but glare at poor Esme upon hearing this unwelcome news; Victoria Martin was one of the worst of the up-and-coming rich hangers-on in our small and previously exclusive community, and if she had really managed to carve this in-road into my family's social calendar, then I would be paying the price of her unwanted flirtations for an indefinite period of time to come. I was not happy.

Before I could comment, however, Esme went on: "Carlisle and Emmett were pretty upset with Rosalie at first, although I had to commend Rose for her kindness to Mrs. Martin. And really, on such an important national holiday, it's been a little selfish of the Cullens to keep to themselves the way we have. So we're going to save our private fireworks display for the night after, and go to the Martins' ball with positive attitudes, all of us."

I wasn't sure how this conversation had deteriorated into a warning lecture worthy of any reluctant 6th-grader, but there it was. And then it got worse.

"Of course, it would appear the phrase 'all of us' requires some elucidation and fine-tuning, now." Esme turned her eyes to rest significantly on Isabella, still curled up and unmoving in my lap.

I stared at Esme, authority in my bearing. She may be, for all intents and purposes, my mother and the spiritual head of my family, but I was the one responsible for my own life, and now for Isabella's life too. I wasn't being dramatic, I knew full well I had set in play actions that would permanently impact Isabella Swan, and I didn't regret a bit of it, except perhaps the embarrassment and discomfort she would inevitably suffer as she learned to adjust to life in the public eye the way the rest of us had.

"Mother, there's no elucidation necessary here, and the only fine-tuning needed will be in the wardrobe and security departments."

"And for the wedding," Alice inserted, completely matter-of-fact, not bothering to turn her head from her continued study of my…girl.

Esme and I both turned our own heads to stare at Alice for a moment, which fact she ignored, and then mutually returned to studying each other. My mother's gaze was questioning, speculative; mine continued to be assertive with an undertone of warning, albeit mixed with due respect and love.

Finally, Esme smiled, and the warmth of it was breathtaking. "I'm so happy for you, Edward, love," she said, as she leaned forward and kissed me again, holding my head to her own for a moment before lowering her head to Isabella's still up against my shoulder and resting there long enough to whisper, "Welcome to the family, Isabella."


End file.
